


The Courtship of Din Djarin

by scarlett2u



Series: The Courtship of Din Djarin [1]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Eventual Romance, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Mandalorian Culture (Star Wars), Surprises
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:40:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27605027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarlett2u/pseuds/scarlett2u
Summary: "The men and women would compete in a series of ‘courtship games’ to demonstrate their worth as warrior, mate and parent. All competitors of marriageable age would be entered in a lottery to see who would get first choice of riduurs. The games would conclude with wedding vows and celebrations. It was hoped that Din would be able to join them on Mandalore."
Relationships: Baby Yoda (The Mandalorian TV) & Din Djarin & Cara Dune, Din Djarin & Cara Dune, Din Djarin/Cara Dune
Series: The Courtship of Din Djarin [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2018201
Comments: 226
Kudos: 244





	1. Chapter 1

When the summons came through on the holocom, it was simultaneously simple and life-changing, though its true importance was not fully apparent at that time.

Din and Cara had been traveling together for over a year, caring for the child and searching for his people interspersed with Guild business and bounties to finance their missions. Their bounty hunting was proving more successful than their search for the green one’s family, but they kept crossing leads off their list and the time spent fighting and being a de facto family only brought them closer. It was good to have a friend, a teammate, a co-parent…and if there were growing feelings on both sides that remained unspoken…well, sometimes there was safety in silence.

They were an amazing team, whether they were fighting some particularly elusive quarry, wrangling the little one for bedtime, or just finishing up the dishes after their evening meal, like tonight.

Cara always shared stories to help the child relax before bed. Sometimes she would read from one of the few tattered volumes they had on the ship, but most of the time she simply told stories from her own childhood and memories. The baby loved them, and he wasn’t the only one; Din enjoyed the glimpse they offered into Cara’s past as well.

Tonight’s story involved how she had once climbed the tallest tree in her family’s orchard and then disgraced herself by falling and breaking her arm. She was just getting to the good part when the holocom chirped.

Typically, when they got messages, it was concerning Guild business, but tonight the person reaching out to them was not Greef Karga.

Din switched on the device and a fuzzy image slowly came into clarity, revealing the gold helmet, fur shoulder piece and red armor that could only belong to one person.

“The Armorer,” Cara murmured as they both moved closer to the image. She had always thought it somewhat ironic that a woman who forged beskar for her livelihood did not have a helmet made of the material.

The message was short: Din’s covert had encountered survivors from another tribe. Since the former Nevarro residents had lost most of their women and children and the other group had lost most of its fighting men, the decision had been made to merge the two groups into one. They would intermarry and hopefully go on to become a stronger tribe together. The men and women would compete in a series of ‘courtship games’ to demonstrate their worth as warrior, mate and parent. All competitors of marriageable age would be entered in a lottery to see who would get first choice of riduurs. The games would conclude with wedding vows and celebrations. It was hoped that Din would be able to join them on Mandalore.

They played the message twice before looking at each other.

“What’s a ‘riduur’?” Cara wrinkled her nose in confusion. “And what are courtship games?”

“A riduur,” he gently corrected her mispronunciation, “is a spouse.”

“A wife then?”

“Or a husband. The term refers to either. Same as ‘buir’ for parent. The words are not gender-specific, both are of equal importance.”

Cara raised an eyebrow. “Very progressive. And courtship games?”

Din shook his head. “To my knowledge, we’ve never had those before. I assume they are just meant to let the tribes get to know each other better and facilitate marriages.”

She rolled her eyes then. “Sounds very romantic, pairing off with an athletic stranger.”

“I don’t make the rules; I’m just glad they are inviting me to be a spectator,” he confessed.

“Was that even in question? Why wouldn’t they invite you?” Cara was genuinely puzzled.

“I haven’t always been an asset to my tribe. When I went back for the kid, the Mandalorians had to leave the covert to help us. It exposed them to the Empire. What happened back on Nevarro was my fault.” He carried the weight of that still.

“Din, no,” her hand went out to touch his before she could even think about it, “you were their brother and the kid was a foundling. What is it that the Armorer is always saying? ‘This is the Way.’ You followed your creed and they followed theirs. You didn’t give the Empire a license to be a bunch of murdering bastards.” She couldn’t quite keep the bitterness out of her voice with that statement. “Besides, rumor has it you’re the best hunter in the Guild, making you the best paid member of the Guild, and what have done with these bounties? You supported your tribe, supported the foundlings.”

“It was the least I could do,” Din mumbled, somewhat embarrassed by her kind understanding. “Anyway, I’m just happy not to be a bridegroom.”

She laughed. “Haven’t you ever wanted to get married? Have a little family, maybe a farm?”

Her question was teasing, but his answer was serious. “I swore the creed in my teens and while many Mandalorians marry young, I wasn’t thinking about that. Then things happened and it just seemed like I was meant to be solitary…until I found the kid.” _And you,_ he deliberately left off. Time for a change of subject: “And what about you? Why is Cara Dune still unmarried?”

“What makes you think I didn’t have a stable full of husbands back on Alderaan?” she shot back. “I was engaged once, actually,” she confessed.

Din’s eyebrows, thankfully concealed by his beskar helmet, shot up at an alarming speed. “Now this I want to hear more about.”

“Not much to tell,” she admitted. “Our families were good friends, same backgrounds, same status. We were just children. It wasn’t a formal arrangement.”

“What happened?” Too late he realized that his question might have stirred painful memories.

“I broke it off. We had an argument one day and he pushed me into the fish pond and ruined my new boots. I pulled him in as well and tromped back home, vehemently insisting I was never getting married. I was ten.”

“And thus ended the courtship of Carasynthia Dune,” Din couldn’t help but laugh, trying to ignore the brief rush of relief he felt that there was no romantic ghost lingering in Cara’s past.

They were still laughing when the holocom chirped again.

It was the Armorer again, this time live. “I have good news, Din Djarin,” her rich voice came through the transmission, “as thanks for your years of service to our tribe, it has been agreed that you will be the first to choose your bride at the end of the games.”

“ _My_ bride?! But I hadn’t considered—I thought I was invited as a spectator, not as a competitor.”

“You are of marriageable age, are you not?” She somehow made the question sound accusatory.

“I’m too old!” Din protested.

“You are older than the typical Mandalorian riduur, true, but you are still active in service and are raising a foundling. You are a perfectly adequate candidate for marriage.” Her tone invited no disagreement.

“But after what happened on Nevarro--.”

“That was tragic, yes, but you have not been held liable. We take care of our own. You are part of this tribe,” she reminded him, “and your tribe needs you now. This is the Way.”

“This is the Way,” he echoed as she ended the holocall.

Din and Cara were left gaping at each other.

Din looked poleaxed. “I suppose I’m getting married.”

***

Later that night, Cara woke with a start, eyes flying open to determine the danger.

Because something was wrong, very wrong.

It felt like something was on her chest, crushing it so that she couldn’t get adequate oxygen. Her breath came in rapid, shallow gulps and she was covered in a sheen of sweat. An overwhelming sense of panic overtook her.

Her first instinct was to call for Din, but this thought just increased her unease.

A wave of dizziness swept over her as she began to hyperventilate.

Oh, no. No, no, no.

She was having an anxiety attack.

She was no stranger to the phenomenon. Cara had had her first attack not long after her home planet Alderaan was destroyed and then periodically during her battle days as a shock trooper and her time on the run after that. She hadn’t experienced one since she’d joined Din and the little green bean on the Razor Crest.

If she could just stop her racing heart and thoughts, she could remember what to do to get herself through this.

Cara tried to sit up, to focus on external stimuli.

Another wave of vertigo overtook her and she slid off her bunk and onto the floor.

She first tried to focus on things she could see, but the darkness complicated that plan, so she made a list in her mind of things in her sleeping compartment.

Her bunk.

Her blanket.

Her armor.

The mirror Din had hung for her to use for braiding her hair and the cup with hairpins on the shelf next to her bunk.

Next, she focused on what she could hear:

The soft hum of the Crest’s engines.

The periodic, small sounds of the vessel. She knew the Crest’s sounds like the voice of an old friend.

The sound of her own breath, though she tried to ignore that, right now, it was out of her control.

Time seemed to freeze. How long had she been curled up by her bunk in this state? It could’ve minutes or hours. She couldn’t think about that now.

She moved onto things she could touch:

The textured weave of the blanket still tangled around her tingling limbs.

The soft fabric of her sleep shirt.

The cold metal of her bunk.

She reached out and was able grasp one of her pauldrons and pull it into her hands, where she stroked the armor that protected from external physical danger.

Cara cataloged every scent as well: the metallic tang of the oil she used to polish her armor and the whiff of citrus shampoo lingering in her hair. She tried to ignore the more primal, less pleasant scent of the film of perspiration that seemed to cover her from head to toe.

When she completed her inventory of external stimuli, she began again, slowly, over and over until she gradually felt her heart rate slow, her breathing deepen and her sense of panic dissipate. When she felt steady enough, she stumbled to the ‘fresher and splashed her face with cool water.

She didn’t try to go back to sleep immediately. Rather, she sat on the edge of her bunk and tried to figure out why she had suffered her first anxiety attack in so long.

After the Armorer’s call, Cara and Din had chatted about the upcoming trip to Mandalore and despite some misgivings, Din appeared excited to be going to what would essentially be a family reunion and homecoming for him.

Of course he was excited, Cara didn’t begrudge him that, though something in the back of her mind kept whispering that she had a bad feeling about all this. She wanted her friend to be happy…she just never imagined that it would come in this form for him.

It was certainly going to change things for him…and for her.

_You are losing everything_ , the voice inside her head whispered. But that was crazy talk. Sure, she’d have to start over somewhere new; she had done that before, many times.

_But not like this,_ the voice argued.

She was losing her mission. For so long now, traveling with Din and the child and sharing their goals and dreams had given her purpose, made her feel alive. Sure, she could find other jobs and keep herself busy, but would that bring the sense of vitality her life had now?

She was losing her home, because that’s what the Razor Crest had become for her. It was more than just a ship or shelter. Coming back after a long day always gave her a feeling of rightness. This was where she lived, where those who had become her family were…

Family…

She was losing the little green guy. She had vehemently protested that she didn’t “do the baby thing,” but that had proved to be a lie. Cara genuinely enjoyed helping Din take care of him. This was probably the closest to motherhood she would ever get, and now some other woman would get to play with him, bathe him, give him snacks and share smiles with him. Cara would never know if his little coos would turn into words, if he would grow bigger, if he would find his people somewhere in this vast galaxy. Those wide, dark eyes would look for someone else and those three little fingers would reach out to someone else to pick him up.

She briskly wiped some moisture from the corners of her eyes. Clearly, she had used too much water when she rinsed her face.

_Why did this have to be happening now? And why did it hurt so much?_

She had lost her home, livelihood, friends and family before, and like a Loth-cat, she always landed on her feet, but…

_This feels different,_ the voice insisted.

Was it just the cumulative effect of her previous losses catching up with her? No, she felt powerless in a different way this time. When the Empire had decided to vaporize her home planet as a show of their might, she had been away at school, unaware of the threat or the loss it produced until it was a fait accompli. When they had defeated Moff Gideon, Cara made the call to stay on Nevarro. She had left Din before he could leave her. Now, she had a front-row seat to his walking out of her life forever.

Din…

She should be happy for her friend. He would surely do well in the games and it was already predetermined that he would have his first choice of a mate. A good friend, an honorable person, would be pleased for their partner, their best friend, even if it meant a permanent end to this thing that had been growing slowly, organically between them.

When the anxiety attack had awakened her, her first thought had been to find Din. Perhaps she was becoming too dependent on his presence in her life? She had gotten through the attack well enough by herself; she was just fine on her own.

Why then was her first instinct still to run to him, to beg, “Don’t do this, don’t marry someone you don’t even know. Marry me!”?

The thought slipped out before she realized it had even formed.

Cara had never seen Din’s face or kissed his lips, yet her heart had apparently made its choice. Unfortunately, she could no more ask him to turn his back on his culture and heritage than he would ask her to stop braiding her hair and maintaining the cultural traditions of her own people.

It was so unfair. If only she were permitted to participate in the games, she knew she could do well, she could prove herself a worthy riduur for a Mandalorian, her Mandalorian. If she were going to lose Din, lose everything dear to her heart, then at least she could go down fighting.

And that was when she got the idea….

To Be Continued 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let the Courtship Games begin!

It wasn’t what he’d been expecting.

Din Djarin looked around at the crowd milling around the registration tables at the opening of the courtship games. Being surrounded on all sides by his fellow Mandos and hearing snippets of conversation in his native language should have made him feel content, given him a sense of belonging.

It didn’t.

Instead, he felt awkward and alone, a contrast to how happy he’d been when he’d arrived with Cara and the kid two days ago. He’d been happy to play tour guide and introduce them to the domed capital city of Sundari, although he hadn’t been there in many years. Everywhere they’d gone, curious glances and sometimes envious eyes followed. Din was well known among his own tribe and the sight of him walking the streets with a paragon of strength and beauty and their charming little green bean stirred interest.

He hadn’t felt uncomfortable then, but he did now. The registration process seemed to be taking forever. He looked in the spectators’ area, hoping for a glimpse of his son and his friend, but he couldn’t find them. Maybe that was the problem: maybe he’d just spent too many years alone or with just a couple of people he knew well and cared for. He felt like a stranger in a strange land. All these people…it made him feel…unsettled. If only the games would begin; then he would know what to do and how to act.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a female Mandalorian standing at the fringes of the crowd. She was not overly tall or short, a perfect height really, and she wore blue-gray armor over black undergarments. No hair stuck out from her helmet, so he couldn’t tell if it was short or long, dark or fair. There was something familiar about her, something that drew Din’s eye and attention. He finally decided that it was that she looked how he felt: a part and yet apart.

He watched her shift nervously from one foot to the other. Well, there was no sense in both of them being uncomfortable. Maybe he would go say “hello.”

He was only a few feet from her when she noticed him striding her way and gave a start.

“I’m sorry,” he offered. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I’m Din.”

She seemed to relax a bit at his introduction.

“And you are?”

Was it his imagination or did she seem to pause before answering, her voice sounding raspy through the modulator. “Syn.”

“Syn,” he repeated. “Are you looking for other members of your tribe?”

“I have no tribe. I am one of the few survivors,” she replied in Basic.

Din had heard that there were a handful of lost Mandalorians at the games, looking for a chance to be part of a tribe again. Apparently, Syn was one of them. “You speak Basic,” he noted.

“Better than Mando’a,” she confessed.

She must have translator software in her helmet, because she understood his use of the language perfectly. “I don’t get to speak it very often myself.” He lapsed into Basic himself. Din decided to change the subject: “Are you nervous about competing today?”

Syn snorted and it made the cutest little echo in her helmet. “Hardly. It will be a welcome distraction when things finally start up.”

Before he could help himself, Din chuckled. “I feel the same way. At least the first event is a run, good to burn off any excess energy.”

“I hope you have a fair amount of energy. Otherwise, all you’ll see for the entire run is this.” She twirled around, presenting a curvy and entirely charming rear view.

Was she…was she flirting with him? “You fancy yourself a runner?”

“Oh, I’m always running. I’d like to think it’s away from trouble, but it’s usually straight into it.” He knew she was wearing a helmet and there was no way to confirm his theory, but Din would swear she was looking him straight in the eye and giving a little wink.

Before he could come up with an appropriate response, a large hand gave him a hearty slap on his back.

“Din Djarin, as I live and breathe! How have you been, brother?”

“Paz!” Din was quick to clasp the other man’s gloved hand. “I’ve been wondering where you were. I thought maybe you weren’t coming.”

“And miss a whole bevy of our Mandalorian sisters competing for the hand of yours truly? I wouldn’t miss it. Who’s this?” he gestured to Syn.

Din made the necessary introductions.

“I see I arrived just in time before all the good ones are taken. Syn, if you’re looking for a real man….”

She chuckled in response. “I think that’s my cue to go.” After a brief handshake with both men, she turned to Din. “I guess I’ll see you at the Warrior’s Run…or you’ll see me.” Then she strolled away, an intoxicating sway in her hips as she went.

Din’s eyes couldn’t help but follow. If only he knew who it was she reminded him of….

“So, how’s that green kid of yours doing these days?” It took Paz’s voice to return him to reality. The old friends spent the remainder of their time in the registration line catching up and sharing memories.

Before he knew it, Din was listening to the opening remarks by the tribal leaders (including The Armorer) and they were assigning numbers for the Warrior’s Run.

The Warrior’s Run was not a competitive race, per se, but instead a way to kick off the games by commemorating all the fallen sons and daughters of Mandalore. The memorial run would take the competitors further out from the city and to a target range where their proficiencies with various weapons would be tested.

The random assignment of numbers to the competitors meant that Din was separated from both Paz and Syn. Neither was in the group he would be running with. A new group of runners was started every five minutes. There was a chance he might come across one or both of them during the run, but it was more likely wouldn’t see either until they got to the target arena.

He found himself wishing for the hundredth time that Cara were here beside him. They had shared so much of their life together over the last year that it seemed strange to be part of something from which she was excluded. He reminded himself that he had been called upon by his tribe to participate. They had saved him as a child, raised him, rescued him more than once. Surely this was not so much to ask of him? And Cara understood as well. She hadn’t voiced any complaints; she supported him, as she always did. Din didn’t know how he’d gotten so lucky.

The starting horn startled him out of his reverie as Din’s group joined the run. He soon settled into an easy, comfortable pace, taking in the scenery around him. To be honest, the stark landscape of Mandalore and its domed cities was a bit of a shock to his system. He supposed he’d gotten accustomed to the lush greenery of some of the other planets he visited in his travels.

Like Sorgan, for instance.

Unbidden, the image of he and Cara standing in the krill pond popped into his head. The water had been icy cold and they’d had a very close call with the AT-ST. Still, they’d been high on adrenaline from the fight and their shared mission, and they’d laughed like little kids.

Even now, the memory of fighting the Klatooinian raiders and running through the woods brought a smile to his face. The chemistry between he and Cara, the sheer synchronicity of it, had them moving like mirror images of each other. The mental picture was so vivid he could almost smell the scents of the night forest and hear the beating of his heart and their steps running in unison.

The footfalls seemed to grow louder…louder…

Din glanced beside him only to discover he was no longer running solo. There, right next to him, matching him step for step, was the Mandalorian woman he’d met that morning…Syn. He didn’t know how she’d gotten there; she hadn’t been in his starting group. She must have run like hell to catch up with him. He waited for her to pass him as she had taunted she would, but Syn seemed content to keep pace with him and stay by his side.

Together they fell into an easy rhythm that took them to the finish line, but not before Paz came lumbering up past them, breathlessly mocking them as “stragglers” as he crossed the finish line.

Paz rather derogatorily dismissed the weapons tests as “children’s games,” but Din was eager to test his mettle, and also to see how Syn would do.

First up was the knife-throwing. They started with small throwing knives, and gradually moved up to larger blades such as vibroblades, daggers and machetes. Syn’s aim was true and her performance flawless, good enough to draw attention from the rest of the crowd.

Next came spears and javelins, where she was proficient but not quite as adept as with the knives. The crowd still watched intently.

Din’s position as the active member of his covert meant that he was experienced and well-practiced in all the weapons being used. He did especially well in the archery competition, landing his arrow perfectly in the middle of the target. “Your turn,” he challenged as he handed the bow off to Syn.

As she silently took the arrow launcher from his hand, Din wished he could see her face. Was she feeling nervous? Confident? Amused? He was used to having Cara’s bare, expressive face for comparison, where every raised brow, curved lip, even the glint of her dark eyes told him everything that was on her mind.

For all that Cara couldn’t see his face, she seemed to be able to know what Din was thinking at any given time. Was it his body language? Or maybe she could just read his mind?

One thing was for sure: Syn’s demeanor gave nothing away. All he could tell was that she was singularly focused on the target. By this point, everyone was watching.

She pulled the bow back slowly and took aim. A hush fell over the crowd as the projectile was released and flew through the air. A collective gasp was uttered when it not only hit the center of the target, it split Din’s arrow in two.

Din was impressed, but pretended not to be. “Beginner’s luck?” he scoffed.

Syn tilted her head slightly and laughed. “Maybe. We’ll see next time.”

The second round went exactly the same as the first.

By the third, the crowd had decided that the Din-Syn rivalry was the one to watch and Syn was surrounded by a group of suitors of both sexes. They cheered her on through the final weapons exhibition.

Din paid close attention when it was announced that firearms would be the final challenge of the day. Syn tried to be as stoic as she’d been earlier in the competition, but there was a little spring in her step that would pass as giddiness in another person.

Ah, so the lady considered herself a gun expert, did she? Din was glad the helmet hid his smile. Well, he was not without expertise in that field as well.

There was an impressive weapons array: small blasters, large blasters, ion blasters, pistols, pulse rifles. Syn surveyed them all, with an appreciation that was bordering on lust. Din recalled Cara’s beaming face when he’d first shown her his weapons cache on the Crest.

As the event went on, it became apparent that he and Syn were pretty equally matched in all the blaster categories, with Syn being a little more skilled in pistols and Din in the pulse rifle. He decided to go congratulate her on her good showing after it was all over, but she was once again surrounded by a throng of admirers fetching her cold beverages and asking her questions. Din turned away, besieged by his own “fans” and when he looked again, she was gone.

It was just as well. He was more than ready to go back to the Crest, to Cara and the little green bean. He scanned the spectators but could not find Cara; she’d probably left already to escape the crowd. They were staying on the Crest rather than in the city due to the shortage of lodging. That was just fine with Din; the Crest was home in his eyes.

His evening was blessedly normal. He was greeted with the baby’s happy coos and Cara’s bright smile. Together, they fed the little one and prepared their own dinner, sitting back-to-back so that Din could remove his helmet to eat. All the while, they chatted about the games and Cara asked questions about the events. The more he talked, the more uncomfortable Din became. He omitted all mention of Syn; it somehow felt disloyal to Cara, though why that should be he had no idea.

He’d spent the day feeling torn between his duties to his people as a Mandalorian and his ties to the makeshift family he’d created for himself. He was tired of wrestling with it; there would be time enough for literal wrestling during the sparring matches the following day.

Sparring was an important test of any Mandalorian’s hand combat skills. Two opponents, no weapons. Who would emerge the victor? It was an integral part of a young warrior’s training, male or female. Din wasn’t overly concerned about the matches; the closest he’d ever come to being bested had been in an alleyway on Sorgan and that had ended in a draw, a bowl of soup and the best friend he’d ever had.

And so it was that he found himself surveying the first opponents, speculating who would come out the winner. It was nice to be a spectator for a change. He’d crossed paths with Paz coming into the arena and now his blue-armored brother insisted on doing a running commentary of each round. Din was only half listening, scanning the crowd for a sign of Cara and the child. He couldn’t find them, though he did catch sight of Syn at a distance. She inclined her helmet his way and gave him a saucy wave. At some point, Din promised himself, they would square off today.

It wasn’t until late afternoon that this came to pass, however. As expected, Din’s matches had been won fairly easily and Syn was doing well in her own right, from what he could tell. When they finally were selected for a round together, it was with a sense of relief at anticipation being fulfilled. At last!

The Armorer had once said, “When one chooses to walk the way of the Mandalore, you are both hunter and prey.” Never had Din felt those words more than he did now, standing in the arena with Syn. They circled each other slowly, like the first measures of a dance.

The dance sped up as they moved closer together in the circle.

Who would make the first move?

He didn’t have long to wait or wonder. In a flash, Syn landed a blow to the side of his helmet that had his ears ringing. She followed it up with a rapid succession of further strikes that took him to the ground before he knew what was happening.

Din’s reaction time seemed slowed, as if he were drugged, and he couldn’t tell if it was from his aching head or from the unbidden images of Cara in that alley, fighting him with all she had.

As if by rote, he grabbed Syn’s ankle and pulled her down, just as he had with Cara. This time, however, his opponent ended up on top of him rather than beside him. He was effectively pinned under Syn, and even through her armor, he could feel the softness and the strength in her. He could smell the citrusy scent of her hair under her helmet—or was just the memory of Cara’s hair?

This had to stop. He had to get out of this.

Din tried to buck her off him but only succeeded in bringing their bodies closer together. A jolt of white-hot arousal went through him. Syn froze, pausing to stare at his visor as if she could see directly into his eyes.

Desperate, Din took advantage and used his weight like to a lever to flip Syn over his head and out of the circle of combat.

It was over.

He had won—for what that was worth.

Dazed, he got to his feet and then helped Syn to hers, his gloved hand staying clasped in hers for perhaps a moment too long.

When he let go, he watched Syn walk away and seemingly disappear into the crowd. He felt unsettled in a way he didn’t know how to explain. Din forced himself to go back and sit with Paz until the day’s activities ended.

They were making their way out of the arena when Cara came walking up, the baby on her hip. The little one squirmed and cooed in excitement upon seeing Din and reached out little green fingers in his direction.

Cara grinned, “Someone’s happy to see you.” She transferred the baby into Din’s arms.

“As I am happy to see such a goddess before me,” Paz shamelessly flattered her. “Din, who is this enchanting creature?”

“Paz, this is Cara Dune. Cara, this is Paz Vizsla.”

They shook hands before Cara took a step back.

“Cara, you’re limping. What happened? Are you alright?” Din was immediately solicitous.

“I tripped over a step earlier. It’s fine, really.” Cara seemed embarrassed.

Paz shot a searching look at her. “Have we met before?”

“No,” Cara shook her head, “I don’t think so.”

“You seem…familiar. But surely I’d remember. Forgetting someone so lovely would certainly be…a sin.” He turned back to Din. “I should be going. Some of us have to put some work into finding a riduur.” He lowered his voice to a whisper intended for Din only, “Though why you are looking when you have such a goddess at home is beyond me.”

With a chuckle, Paz was gone and Din was left with his partner, his foundling and his own conflicted thoughts. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, readers, for the amazing outpouring of support for this story. I cherish all the kind words and hope this installment of the story does not disappoint. 
> 
> The events of the Courtship Games were inspired by a combination of ancient Olympic events, Spartan military training and the Tough Mudder obstacle races my husband does. 
> 
> Thank you to Name1 and Lady_Vibeke for reading this over and cheering me on.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Is that a challenge?”
> 
> “I was framing it as more of a threat.” He could hear the amusement in her voice. 
> 
> “You’re that good at the game?” He was calling her bet.
> 
> “I was kind of hoping you’re that bad,” she confessed.

The next stage of the Courtship Games featured contests that focused on the mind rather than the body.

Din was relieved to see the game of cu’bikad had been selected. Played with holograms, the game involved players inserting four knives into a cube, then moving those holoblades through the squares of the cube in an effort to capture the opponent’s blades. Strategy was key and the player who captured all his opponent’s blades was declared the winner. While the game could be played with up to four competitors, the emphasis on pairing Mandalorians meant there would be only two players per match.

Din had not played cu’bikad in some time but was eager for the challenge—and he knew who he wanted his opponent to be.

The great hall was quickly filling with people and many gaming tables were already assembled with players taking their seats. As Din ambled though the crowd, he received many greetings and invitations to join a game, all of which he politely declined.

_Where was she?_

He was trying to subtly scan the throng when, like the devil he was, Paz appeared at his side.

“Looking for your superstar?” It should’ve been impossible to drawl with a voice modulator, but his blue-armored friend somehow managed it.

Din ignored him.

Paz, however, would not be ignored. “Hey,” he roughly grabbed his friend’s vambrace, “I was talking to you.”

“You’re in fine mood this morning,” Din observed.

“If you must know,” the grin came out in his friend’s voice, “I was up late last night socializing with some of our lovely Mandalorian sisters.”

“I turned in early.”

“Of course you did. You’ve been here all week and have you even once gone to a mixer? Have you even talked to any other women? No, you just saw Syn and that was the end of it.”

“I talked to several women this morning,” Din pointed out.

“Turning down their offer of a game of cu’bikad is hardly flirting. These are courtship games, mate, and you’ve been focused entirely on the latter while ignoring the former. It’s like being in a garden and not looking at all the flowers. Ungrateful is what it is. Of course, maybe you don’t need to woo anyone. You lead a charmed life, Djarin.”

“You think so?” Din refused to be baited.

“You arrive with the incomparable Cara. The strength of a warrior with the face and body of a goddess. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed those curves of hers. Even beskar armor wouldn’t cover those up.” He made an hourglass gesture with his hands.

Din sighed. “Cara is my friend,” he said firmly.

“I’m just saying that no man would mind being more than friendly with her.”

“I am here to find a riduur,” Din reminded him.

“And you walked in and set eyes on the matrimonial prize….”

“Syn is looking for another tribe, for a family.”

“So, you feel sorry for her? Is that all you feel? Does she remind you of anyone?”

Din was tiring of this conversation. What was up with Paz thinking all women looked familiar lately? He’d said the same thing about Cara just last night when they met.

“You don’t know what I’m talking about, do you?” Paz had to laugh at this point.

No, Din certainly did not understand and before he could ask what Paz meant, two ladies strolled by and dragged his friend off to join another cu’bikad match.

Before he vanished from sight, Paz shouted, “You’ll figure it out, brother. Don’t mess this up; she’s going to be hard to let go.”

Under his helmet, Din’s face was creased in confusion. What was there to figure out? Who was he letting go? Paz was a strange one, that’s for sure.

Din was still staring after him in befuddlement when Syn popped up at his side.

“A credit for your thoughts,” she invited.

He chuckled. “I don’t know that they’re worth that much. I was just trying to figure out something Paz said.”

“The big guy in the blue armor? He’s…interesting.”

Din laughed again. “That’s putting it mildly. See, aren’t you glad you didn’t waste your credit?”

“A girl does have to look out for herself. Like today, for instance, when I’ll be taking my revenge for you throwing me out of the sparring ring, if you’re not afraid to take me on in cu’bikad?”

“Is that a challenge?”

“I was framing it as more of a threat.” He could hear the amusement in her voice.

“You’re that good at the game?” He was calling her bet.

“I was kind of hoping you’re that bad,” she confessed.

They both laughed.

“We shall see, I suppose. Let’s find a table.”

And the games began.

As Din and Syn took their seats on opposite sides of the gaming table, a gamemaster came over and reviewed the rules that were being used so as to avoid any misunderstandings during the match. 

Despite her self-assured invitation to the game, Syn seemed strangely quiet as play began. Her moves were slow and deliberate. It almost seemed to Din as if she was studying him as much as the holographic cube in front of them. 

Little by little, Syn seemed to be catching onto the strategy of the game and by endgame was much more competitive. Sadly, it was not soon enough to prevent Din being the victor.

Din slid his chair back, prepared to make his way to another game but not quite wanting to leave his present opponent just yet.

“Rematch?” Syn threw down the gauntlet again.

How could he say no? It would’ve been churlish to refuse.

And so the competition began again, with a small crowd forming around the table to watch. This time there was no hesitation on Syn’s part; she was playing to win. It was such a stark contrast to her demeanor in the first match that Din began to wonder if she had been hustling to lull him into a false sense of security.

When she captured his last holoblade, a group of her supporters cheered while Din struggled to comprehend what had just happened.

“Best of three?” he challenged, and the crowd, which had grown substantially during the second match, applauded again.

Syn nodded and, once again, it was a battle royale.

So engrossed were they in their strategy that neither realized hours had passed since their first match. They had tuned out everything in the background and were solely focused on the game board and their opponent. At intervals, beverages with straws were placed in front of them, so that they might stay refreshed.

They had reached a point in the game play where they were at a stalemate. Din had captured three of Syn’s blades and she had an equal number of his.

What happened next would affect the whole outcome of the game…

Except they were never to know what that might have been because a bell sounded, indicating that the day’s play was over.

The crowd gave a collective groan and slowly began to disperse.

“But—but I hadn’t defeated you yet!” Syn protested.

“What makes you think _I_ was the one doomed for defeat?”

“Oh, please, you had to see it coming,” she sneered.

Din stretched arms behind his head and shrugged, “I guess we’ll never know.”

“If we’d been playing sabacc, I would’ve beaten you soundly hours ago.”

“So you say,” he scoffed.

“Is that an invitation?” she demanded.

Din frowned. Part of him wished that it could be, but the other part simply wanted to be back on the Crest with Cara and the kid. He shook his head. “I’m headed back to my ship. I spend the evenings with my clan there.” For some reason, he felt awkward trying to explain Cara and her role in his life. Maybe because he couldn’t articulate it even to himself.

“I understand. I don’t go to the evening mixers either.”

Din breathed a sigh of relief over that. He wouldn’t have to worry about her developing an attachment to some other Mandalorian while he was gone. On the other hand, there was only one more day of the courtship games before the selection began and there was so much they hadn’t been able to discuss yet. He knew they shared a cultural heritage and a ready rapport, but did Syn enjoy space travel or would she want to settle down? What size family did she want? There were countless decisions, big and small, about being married. Marriage seemed like such a big leap—how could they truly be prepared?

He should spend some more time with her, talk with her. If he had plans of choosing Syn in the selection ceremony—and who else could he choose?—there ought to be more to their courtship than just fun and games.

But…

Cara would be waiting for him.

He hesitated, perhaps too long because Syn gave him a little wave and moved off into the crowd.

Fate had decided. Din Djarin was going back to his ship tonight with his Cara and his little green son. Tomorrow was the final day of the games and it could sort itself out then.

The following morning, however, the sky above the dome was clear, but Din’s mind was not. He breakfasted and dressed as if by rote, and was walking down the ramp to wait for Cara when he spotted it…

A packed duffel was sitting at the base of the ramp.

It was not a large bag, but it was well packed and clearly contained all of Cara’s meager possessions.

For a second, it seemed like Din’s heart stopped beating, then he turned on his heel and went back into the ship, calling Cara’s name.

“I’ve almost got the little green bean ready,” she appeared in the doorway, breathless and rushing, “Do you need me?”

Words failed him. All Din could do was point at the packed bag and demand, “Cara, what? Why?”

Her eyes followed his hand before she looked away. “I thought it would be best if I was packed and gone when you return tonight,” she said quietly.

“Why would you think that?!” He knew he sounded irrational and overly upset, but he couldn’t seem to control his voice.

She looked back at him then, “Din, have you forgotten today is the last day of the games? After this morning’s obstacle race, you’ll be choosing your bride. You’re getting married today.” Her tone was gentle but firm.

Of course he knew that! Did she think he was an idiot?! Well, clearly he was, because he had not seen her departure coming.

“Cara, you don’t have to leave,” he reached out and touched her arm. “You will always have a home with me, I swear it.”

She squeezed his hand before deliberately stepping away. “It’s been amazing traveling with you and the bean, but think about your riduur. This is a small ship. You’ll be newlyweds; you’ll want your privacy as you adjust to being married. You won’t want me under foot all the time.”

Like hell there would ever be a time he didn’t want Cara ‘under foot’ and on the Crest.

“It wouldn’t be fair to any of us.” Cara needed to make him understand. _Please, Din, please don’t make this any harder for me._

Din gave a loud, exasperated sigh. “What about the kid?”

She turned away again, but not before he saw the glaze of tears in her eyes. “He’s part of the reason why I’m slipping away. It would be too hard to say goodbye.”

“You love him.” Was it an argument or an observation?

“You know I do.” Her voice cracked a little as she said it. “Some of the best times of my life have been here with you two.”

Perversely, her confession angered him. “And yet you were just going to leave me without saying goodbye?”

“I never meant for it to seem that way. I just want you to be happy, both of you.”

“What am I going to tell him?” Was Din asking himself or Cara?

“Your new riduur will love him and spoil him like crazy. She won’t be able to help herself.” Why did it sound like Cara was talking about her own experiences with the child?

_But she won’t be you._ The words were right there on the tip of Din’s tongue, but he dare not say them. “What will you do next?”

“I’ll watch the games today and see that we get you successfully married off.” She gave a little laugh but it sounded brittle and forced. “After that, I’ll catch a transport to another planet, find some work and lodging. Maybe I’ll try my hand at bounty hunting. After all, I did learn from the best.” Her mouth tried to curve into a smile but missed.

“Will we hear from you?” Why was this situation so far out of his control?

“Eventually. Not right away. I want to give you time to settle down with your new family first.”

_New family._ The words sounded strange and foreign in his head. How many times did he have to go through this? It suddenly felt like he was a young boy again, hiding in the cellar, listening to the sounds of the battle above and being terrified that his life was about to end. The Mandalorians had rescued and raised him, yet even now he sometimes felt that a part of him had died that day.

It felt like a part of him was dying right now. He reached for her hands and took them in his. “Don’t ask me to say goodbye to you. We’ve never said goodbye,” he reminded her.

That was true. On Sorgan, it had been “until our paths cross.” On Nevarro, Din had left Cara behind, knowing it was what she wanted and that he would be back and see her again. Both times he had done so with the full faith and conviction that they would reunite. He hadn’t expected there would be a third…and final time.

Cara squeezed his fingers with hers. “Then just wish me good luck, and know that I will be wishing the same for you.” Her voice was almost a whisper.

It was torture, standing there holding her hands and wanting so much to say how much she meant to him, how grateful he was to her…

But there was no time…

And there were no words.

Suddenly, she pulled back with a start. “Din! Din, the time! You’re going to be late for the obstacle race. You have to go now! Go ahead and I’ll get the baby and catch up.”

Dazed, Din felt Cara’s hands disengage from his and it seemed as though she was being ripped away from him. Suddenly, Din understood what Paz had meant when he said, “she’s going to be hard to let go.”

For better or for worse, today was the day his whole life would change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year, CaraDin friends! 
> 
> The games continue. With more Paz! Bless his heart, he was only intended as a one-time cameo, but he just jumped in and made himself at home. 
> 
> Kudos and comments are always welcomed and enjoyed. Thanks for your support!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Courtship Games get serious.

Though he feared he was going to be late, Din arrived at the starting point for the obstacle race with time to spare. He paced around, trying to burn some nervous energy and shake the negative feelings caused by Cara’s announced departure.

“Right on time, my friend,” Paz greeted him enthusiastically.

Despite it being the last day of the games and selection day to boot, Din seemed distracted and out of sorts.

“Why the long albeit hidden face?”

“Cara is leaving.” It didn’t sound any more real when he said it out loud.

“You didn’t really expect her to live with your new riduur and your foundling, did you?”

Din was silent.

“You did!” Paz sounded surprised.

Din looked away. He didn’t need any reminders that he was a fool; that had already been brought home to him this morning. “I just didn’t expect it would be so hard to say goodbye,” he admitted.

“Well, at least one of you knows the score. She did you a favor, mate. Now you can devote yourself to the lovely Syn and making her your riduur. Unless you’ve changed your mind?”

His eyes followed the direction Din’s helmet had turned. A familiar female silhouette was making its way over to them.

“You have the devil’s own luck, little brother,” Paz shook his head. “And you don’t even know it.”

_Did he?_ Din wondered. Well, it was time to get to know Syn a little better and find out.

“Good morning!” He could hear the smile in Syn’s voice, even if he couldn’t see her face.

He returned the greeting, but thought it sounded a bit flat.

“Hard to believe it’s the last day of the games already.”

“Yes.” He really needed to make more of an effort here. “Has the experience been all you were hoping for?”

“It’s not over yet, so that remains to be seen,” was her coy response. “You?”

“I’ve enjoyed the competition, most of it from you,” he chuckled. “It was nice to see Mandalore.” He fumbled for a moment. “Do you enjoy traveling?”

“I’m used to it. I’ve been doing it since I lost my tribe. It has both advantages and drawbacks.”

He nodded.

“I mostly live on my ship. The Razor Crest. It’s not big and it’s old, but it’s reliable and it’s home.” He almost said it like a dare.

“It sounds like a lovely kind of freedom, traveling the galaxy and seeing new sights. Wherever you go, you’re always home.”

Din frowned. The answer should’ve pleased him, but it irritated him for some reason.

“I have a foundling.” Even to his own ears, the comment sounded very random. Was he trying to scare her off?

“I had heard that,” Syn confessed. “The little green guy?”

Din had to grin at the description. “That’s him. He’s…special.” There was really no quick way to explain the little one’s abilities and powers. “We don’t know his species, but I’ve been tasked with finding his people and returning him to them.”

“Won’t that be difficult, after you’ve been raising him as your own?” Syn sounded genuinely concerned.

“To be honest, I don’t know how I will do it, when the time comes.”

“I’m sure you’ll do what’s best for everyone.”

“I appreciate your confidence in me. Are you looking forward to having a family?”

“Yes, and it’s funny, because when I was younger, I never pictured myself as a mother, but now it’s all I think about. To be honest, until the last year or so, babies sort of scared me. I was sure I didn’t know what I was doing and I’d do the wrong thing….”

He nodded. “I felt the same way. I’m still not sure that I know what I’m doing all the time, but I’m learning as I go.”

They fell silent for a moment.

“How do you feel about raising a foundling, or maybe more foundlings in the future?” He had to ask; this was more than just a hypothetical question.

“Foundlings are the future; isn’t that the Way?” She said it with conviction. “Besides, I’ve had many injuries over the years. I’m not even certain I can bear children myself.” Her voice rose at the end and he could tell she was asking him if that was a dealbreaker.

It wasn’t. “There’s more than one way to become a parent. Family is more than blood and having my ad’ika is so much more than I ever thought I’d have in my life.”

She seemed to relax a bit at that. “Tell me more about your life.”

“I travel a great deal. I take bounties to support myself and my foundling.”

“Bounty hunting?” She seemed to perk up at that. “I think that would be fun.”

Dank farrik, she really was the Mandalorian embodiment of perfection!

Din chuckled. “I don’t know if ‘fun’ is really the right word. Sometimes it’s tedious, sometimes it’s dangerous.”

Syn shrugged her shoulders. “Life is dangerous.”

Before they could talk any further, an announcement was made that the obstacle race would be starting.

When the competitors lined up for the start, they paired off and were given an oblong weight of 15 kilograms. Their task was to make it over a dozen obstacles in their run while protecting their partner and the weight, which was to symbolize a young child. They would equally share the responsibility of carrying the weight, switching the role of porter every time they cleared an obstacle.

They ran for almost a kilometer and a half with Din carrying the ‘baby’ before they reached the first obstacle. It was a wooden slat fence about two and a half meters tall. It was agreed that Syn would go over first, then wait at the top for Din to pass her the weight. It went smoothly and they were off to the next obstacle.

The second obstacle—a chasm that had to be traversed by swinging on a rope—also presented no undue challenge for them. Syn was strong and confident. Their teamwork and chemistry were even better than Din could’ve hoped.

It was like Paz had said: Din was a lucky man; Syn was the perfect Mandalorian bride.

Lucky. Perfect.

The words echoed through Din’s mind as they scaled a four-meter metallic wall.

Lucky. Perfect.

They navigated a trench filled with wet sand.

Lucky. Perfect.

They crawled across a net suspended over a pit of stinging sand worms.

Lucky. Perfect.

They were getting near the end of the course and making their way across a pile of logs when Din, carrying the symbolic baby weight, lost his balance…

Lucky. Perf--.

The weight slipped, but Syn managed to grab onto it and take it into her arms. It was too late for Din, who tripped over his own feet and went sprawling. He lay there for a moment, dazed, as Syn scrambled over the rest of the log pile and set down the ‘baby’ at the edge of the course.

“Din! Din, are you hurt?” He could hear her concern, even through the voice modulator.

He stretched a little. “Just my pride, I think.”

They heard another team approaching the obstacle.

“Can you move?”

He started to, but wasn’t fast enough for Syn. She rushed behind him, grabbed him under both arms and dragged him off the course.

Of course she did. Syn was, after all, the perfect Mandalorian mate.

Why then, was he lying there, suddenly immersed in the memory of another time, another planet…another woman?

The memory played like a holofilm in his mind. Cara had somehow gotten him back into the remains of the cantina on Nevarro. Din told her to take the child, to leave him to die a warrior’s death.

But she wouldn’t. She told him some pretty lies about how he’d be fine and he’d just “gotten his bell rung.”

He didn’t believe her.

“I won’t leave you!” The sheer conviction in her words made them sound like an oath. The fire in the depths of her dark eyes and the tension on her face only served to affirm that oath.

He’d been alone for so long.

He thought he was used to it.

He thought he’d made peace with it.

And then he’d seen her out of the corner of his eye…sitting in the shadows of that cantina on Sorgan.

And he wasn’t alone anymore after that day.

She was always by his side in a heartbeat, whether they were sipping spotchka and shooting the breeze, or shooting their way out of a trap. Being together was natural and right and possibly the greatest gift he’d ever been given.

She didn’t know his name at first or know his face, but she knew _him._

Cara had said she would not leave him.

He believed her.

Even when she’d decided to stay behind on Nevarro, they’d known it wasn’t forever, that they would reunite again. In fact, the first chance he’d gotten, Din was back, this time asking her to come with him and his ad’ika. He was still in awe that she’d said yes.

She never questioned his creed, never complained that she couldn’t see his face. She just respected him, supported him. It had started out as friendship, but it had gotten stronger. Now, this _thing_ that swirled in the air between them any time they were together had taken on a life of its own. He could not deny that he had feelings—strong feelings—for her.

He wanted to know how it would feel…

If she touched his face…

If their hands could catch and hold…

If they didn’t have to say goodnight and part before bed.

And now he would never know.

He felt as if he were being ripped in two: it was Din Djarin the Mandalorian vs. Din the man. Whatever path he chose, part of him would be left behind. He couldn’t help but grieve for what he was losing.

“Din…Din!” It took a moment for him to realize he was being spoken to. Din looked up, not into Cara’s sweet dark eyes, but the black transparisteel of a Mandalorian helmet instead.

Syn.

“I’m fine,” Din reassured her as he got to his feet. “Let’s get going again.”

Time seemed to move more slowly and his feet felt weighted down as he fell into step with Syn. Din tried to recapture the feeling of luck and gratitude he’d had when the race started, but all he felt was a kind of rage.

Rage against the unfairness of having to give Cara up.

Rage against his creed and his duty as a son of Mandalore.

Rage against himself for even being in this position.

Cara would doubtless be waiting at the finish line. But there would be no tender goodbye scene, no farewell kiss, no handclasp for luck.

He would be marrying someone else and she would be….

Din didn’t know what would happen. If she would be safe, happy….

Unbidden, the thought came to him that he’d been trying to tamp down all through the games: what would it be like if Cara were by his side in this? If she were the one competing beside him? If she were the one he could claim as his riduur?

No, no, he must not do this. Was this what his life was going to be like now—constantly wondering about Cara and how different things would be if she were still there? He refused to acknowledge that he’d been thinking of her all through the games; that the times he’d felt most attracted to Syn, he had, in fact, been thinking of Cara.

Stars, he was cursed.

That feeling intensified when they crossed the finish line and there was no Cara in sight. She’d said she would be there through the race, through the selection ceremony and through the wedding. Perhaps she too had been unable to face their final goodbye.

It didn’t matter, Din told himself. It was time to move on.

He kept telling himself that as they waited for all the other pairs to finish the race and the selection ceremony to begin.

First up was a recap of Mandalorian history and the importance of clans and individual families. Secrecy had always served as their people’s survival and strength. Now, new traditions were being adopted. It was even decided it would be permissible for Mandalorians to remove their helmets with their families, should they so desire. It was a new day for Mandalore.

Din was uncertain how to feel. If ever there was a day he wanted to keep his face hidden, it was today.

He was still mulling it over in his mind when the selection ceremony began and a hush fell over the crowd. 

The Armorer called his name: “Din Djarin, who is your choice to be your riduur?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our boy is certainly conflicted, isn't he?   
> What do you think he's going to do?  
> Talk to me, readers; it makes me all smiley.   
> Special thanks to Lady_Vibeke and Name1 for reading this over for me.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Din Djarin, who is your choice to be your riduur?"

“Din Djarin, who is your choice to be your riduur?” The Armorer’s voice rang clearly through the hushed crowd.

There was a buzzing in his ears. This was it: the moment he’d make the supreme sacrifice and do his duty as a son of Mandalore.

Beneath his helmet, Din’s lips parted and he was ready to speak the name everyone in the crowd was anticipating he would.

But it was a phrase, not a name that flashed through his mind. The dull ache in his chest suggested that the words might be etched directly on his heart: “I won’t leave you.”

Din cleared his throat, “Madame Armorer, Tribal Leaders, it was a great honor and privilege to be invited to these courtship games and to be given first choice in this selection, but I elect to forfeit my claim on any Mandalorian here to be my riduur.”

A collective gasp went through the crowd.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” the Armorer made her confusion clear, “have you not found any Mandalorians here you would consider a worthy choice?”

The crowd began to chant Syn’s name. Clearly, they did not understand either.

“More than worthy,” Din looked regretfully at the painfully still woman next to him, wishing there was some way he could apologize for what this was doing to her. “The perfect Mandalorian bride.”

Paz yelled out, “Don’t worry, cyar’ika, there’s always place for you in Clan Viszla.”

The crowd cheered.

Din shot an invisible glare at his so-called friend and continued to address the leaders. “The fault lies solely with me.”

“What is your justification for this?” Another of the tribal leaders wanted answers.

“The purpose of these games to encourage relationships and the formation of families, is it not? I already have a family.”

“You have a foundling, yes. Do you not feel that a partner would be beneficial to your clan?”

“I have a partner. She’s traveled with me for over a year, helps me with my foundling and has saved my life more times than I can count.”

“You are a referring to Cara Dune?” the Armorer inquired.

He nodded.

“Is this woman a Mandalorian?” the Tribal Leader wanted to know.

“Not by creed, but I feel like her soul is.”

There was much murmuring through the crowd.

“Have you exchanged vows with this woman?”

“No.”

“Then I do not see the problem. She is not Mandalorian and you have not exchanged vows; there is nothing binding you to her.”

It sounded so cold when the leader phrased it like that.

“Nothing but my heart.”

“You love her then?” the Armorer chimed in.

“I thought I could let her go, that I could do my duty as a Mandalorian….”

“How’d that work out for you, little brother?” Paz snickered under his breath.

Din ignored the jab. “Look, she left today and I have to find her, to catch her. I know I have not acted honorably as a potential riduur,” he turned apologetically to Syn, “so banish me, administer whatever punishment you deem fit…I just need to find her.”

“You are risking a great deal on something that is very uncertain. Do you even know if she will accept you as a riduur?”

Din shook his head. “I still have to try.”

“I have a feeling she won’t be hard to find. She may be closer than you imagine.” The Armorer nodded as she made the cryptic statement.

A sudden rustling beside him caused Din to turn his attention back to Syn. She was fiddling with her helmet….

And then it released and she was lifting it off her head…

 _What in the stars was she doing?!_ True, they had been told that helmets might be removed at home now, in front of family or friends, but…

He was still unconscious. He was out cold and having some sort of chaotic fever dream. Why else would Syn have removed her helmet to reveal the face of….

“Cara!” Din’s exclamation and loud gasp drew everyone’s attention. As if from outside himself, Din felt himself turn and accept the helmet she placed into his hands. “What?! How?!”

“At last!” Paz’s snort was exasperated and audible.

There was an angry shout from somewhere in the throng: “Aruetii!” _Foreigner!_

This could get ugly very quickly. To be sure, there were a couple of other echoes of the same, though most of the group seemed gobsmacked and unsure what was happening.

They were not alone. Din took her helmet and placed it on the ground, before standing up again and taking her gloved hands in his. “Cara, I don’t understand what’s going on.”

Cara tried to speak, but her throat felt constricted and her eyes welled with tears.

Once again, the Armorer stepped in. “Allow me to explain. When you first landed on Mandalore, Carasynthia Dune came to see me. She wanted to compete in the games and she needed a favor. I was happy to oblige.”

“How?” Din was still confused.

“I gathered every bit of beskar we had in the coffers and there was just enough for her armor and helmet.”

The multitude grumbled again.

“It is a loan only,” the Armorer replied firmly. “I agreed to allow her to compete, but she was given no advantages over any other competitor. As you have seen, she did not need any. She has given quite a skilled performance.”

“Mesh’la!,” someone in the crowd called out. _Beautiful_.

“Kotir!,” another added. _Brave_.

“Mandokarla!,” several shouted at the same time. _The right stuff_.

“But where is our ad’ika?” Din broke in.

The Armorer nodded to a group of children and teens. “Right here, with the other children and foundlings. He’s been well cared for by some of the older children.”

Just then, a little green fuzzy head appeared over the shoulder of one of the young spectators. There was a loud chirp and much cooing as the Bean leapt out of his caregiver’s arms and made a beeline for one of Cara’s boots. He latched onto it until she picked him up and cradled him snugly between her and Din. It was clear she had the little guy’s support.

“If the questions are all answered, let’s continue with the selection ceremony.” The Tribal Leader tried to exercise some control over the chaos that had unexpectedly surfaced. “Madame Armorer, will you please draw the next name to choose a riduur?”

The crowd, however, was not ready to move on. What started as a single shout of “Cara!” turned into the whole company cheering and chanting her name.

“Car-a! Car-a! Car-a!”

The Armorer shrugged. “Carasynthia Dune of Alderaan, you have chosen to compete in these games and have proven yourself worthy of a Mandalorian riduur. Whom do you choose?”

“Clan Viszla awaits with open arms, Lady Cara,” Paz was determined to get in the last word.

Cara rolled her eyes, while, under his helmet, Din was gritting his teeth. The rest of the company just laughed.

Cara took advantage of the moment of distraction to turn to Din. “Din, I need you to know that I never lied to you. Everything I told you during these games was true; even the name I gave you is part of my own.”

“You don’t have to prove anything to me, Cara, or to anyone else. I’ve spent this whole time just wishing that Syn was you and that I could spend my life with you. That’s all I want.”

“Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum,” she whispered the words in Mando’a. In Basic, they literally meant, “I know you forever”; in his language, they meant “I love you.” They were true in both tongues.

Before Din could answer, the Tribal Leader had more questions: “Do you understand the gravity of this decision, Cara Dune?”

“I do.”

“Then you won’t object to answering some more of our questions. You’ve been traveling with Din Djarin for some time. Have you ever seen him without his helmet?”

“I have not.”

“You are objectively a very beautiful woman. What if he removes his helmet and he looks differently than you expect? Or he decides to not remove the helmet? You would never know his face.”

“I do not need to know his face. I know his mind, his heart. Surely these are more important? Besides, I do know some things about his face: I know his eyes are kind and I know when he is smiling, even in the helmet. To me, these are more important than knowing the shape of his nose or if his chin is strong or his jaw square. Facial features change more easily with time than the person inside.”

“Hmm,” the Leader’s reply was noncommittal. “Are you familiar with the Resol’nare?”

“I’m aware that it’s part of his creed.”

“The Resol’nare are the Six Actions: wearing the armor, speaking Mando’a, raising children as Mandalorians, defending one’s self and one’s family, serving one’s clan and fighting for the Mand’alor when called. Do you feel you can live with those tenets?”

Cara took a breath. “Well, I don’t typically wear beskar and a helmet, but don’t your people say that a warrior is more than her armor? And I can’t speak much Mando’a…yet. But as for the other Actions--.”

“I could not ask for a better teammate and parent,” Din cut in. “And I would never ask for more than Cara wants to give.” He squeezed her gloved fingers and she felt a rush of warmth go through her whole body.

“Your personal references are not required, Din Djarin,” the Tribal Leader heaved a sigh. “The question was for the lady.”

“So you are certain you wish to ally yourself with a Mandalorian?” The Armorer was speaking again.

“Quite sure.”

“And whom do you choose as your riduur?”

“I choose…,” she paused to turn to his way, “Din Djarin.”

“See what I mean, little brother, the devil’s own luck,” Paz grumbled under his breath.

“Din Djarin, do you freely and openly accept this offer of marriage?” The Armorer sounded just a bit smug.

“Yes,” Din’s response was calm and clear. The little one in their arms giggled and babbled, clearly delighted, as if he’d coordinated the whole thing himself.

A cheer went up through the crowd.

“Oh, just kiss already!” Paz admonished.

When their foreheads touched in the traditional Keldabe kiss, another round of applause broke out.

Cara and Din didn’t remember much of the selection ceremony after that. They were in their own happy bubble and the rest of the world seemed far away.

Before they knew it, however, it was time for the marriage vows.

“I can teach you the vows in Mando’a, then we can both say them in Basic. This is your wedding too.”

“I already know them in Mando’a,” was her cocky reply. “I’ve been practicing.”

 _Stars, she was amazing!_ “I love you,” the awed whisper slipped from his lips.

And she had the audacity to wink at him. “I know…but you can tell me every day for the rest of our lives. I’ll never get tired of it. As long as you’re sure, that is…I mean, Paz is probably around still around here somewhere….”

She pretended to let go of Din’s hand and begin to move away, but he just pulled her closer. “Get back here. You can’t run out on our wedding.”

Cara laughed and Din chuckled too, feeling lighter than he had throughout the whole competition.

“Mandalorians, please face your riduurs, join hands and prepare to say your vows,” the Armorer’s voice carried through the company.

Cara put down their ad’ika and the little guy grabbed onto each of their legs, creating a little circle of family.

“Mhi solus tome.” As in most things, Din and Cara’s voices were perfectly in sync.

“We are one when together.” The whispered words were meant for their ears only.

“Mhi solus dar’tome.”

“We are one when apart.” If Din had anything to say about it, however, they would never be apart again.

“Mhi me’dinui.”

“We will share everything.” Cara had given him everything today. He only wished he had more to give to her.

“Mhi ba’juri verde.”

“We will raise warriors.” A coo at their feet reminded them they were already doing precisely that.

The ceremony ended with the new riduurs sharing a collective Keldabe kiss.

It was expected that each couple would share a meal with their new spouses privately before regrouping for fireworks and a bigger celebration later in the evening.

The Armorer approached them. “You two go along and enjoy your evening meal. In fact, I’ll take the little one, so you can enjoy some privacy on the first night of your marriage. You can pick him up in the morning.”

When they started to put up a token protest, she insisted, “This is the Way.”

_Who could argue with that?_

On the walk back to Crest, it seemed only natural to link their hands, to make conversation, to crack jokes…just like always.

But it wasn’t just like always.

When they reached the ramp of the ship, Din paused. “Welcome home, Cara. Everything I have, I share with you.”

“So half of the Crest is now mine?” Her eyebrows raised.

“You didn’t marry me just for my ship, did you?”

“No, not _just_ for your ship!” Cara laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Well, it is a very dependable ship. So…why did you marry me?”

“You know why,” Cara’s reply was soft, almost shy. She looked over at him through half-closed eyes and caught her full lower lip between her teeth.

It was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.

“Why don’t you tell me again? It’s been quite a day. I woke up to discover you were leaving, then I fell on the obstacle run, and somehow it all ended with you being Syn and our getting married. I’m not convinced I’m not still unconscious by that pile of logs.”

“You’re wide awake, I promise. And I love you.”

“Say it again. In Mando’a.”

And she obliged.

“You really never suspected I was Syn?” She had to know.

“I was too busy telling myself to stop thinking of you to seriously consider the possibility. I’m still not sure how you pulled that off.”

“It wasn’t easy. Especially when we were sparring…..”

“Your limp! But you know how to get out of that hold!”

“Of course I do; I taught you that move! But if I’d gotten out of it, I thought you’d know it was me for sure. Besides, you seemed to enjoy holding me close.”

“You sound angry.”

“I was jealous…of myself! And I had to sit in a bacta bath for half the night to heal my sore hip!”

“You had nothing to be jealous about. Let me show you. May I kiss you?”

“I wish you would. It is our wedding night. You know, on Alderaan, a wedding wasn’t officially over until the couple kissed.”

“We kissed!” he argued.

“On the lips,” she specified.

“Are there other Alderaanian wedding traditions I need to know about?”

“The groom usually takes down the bride’s braid.”

“Your hair looks different today,” he observed, as his fingers worked to loosen the pins in her hair.

“It’s a marriage braid,” she explained. “Two braids that go into one.”

He unplaited each braid with agile fingers untwining the strands of midnight silk and glorying in the softness of its texture.

“There’s also a tiny braid hanging down in the back.” He’d saved that for last.

“For our little green guy,” she smiled, leaning back into his touch.

“About that kiss…” Din paused for a moment, placing his hands on either side of his helmet. He started to lift it up…

“Din, no! What are you doing?” Cara sounded alarmed.

“Cara, you heard the Armorer and the Tribal Leader today: we can remove our helmets at home…with our family…with our riduurs. At first I wasn’t sure how I felt about that, but once I knew that you were going to be my riduur, my family, I knew this is what I wanted.”

“Whoa! Din, you said it yourself: it’s been quite a day today. One of us has already removed a helmet. We’ve exchanged vows. I can’t let you rush into this step.”

“This is what I want, Cara. I don’t want anything to come between us again, not my creed, not a piece of metal. I want to share everything with you—even my face.”

“I meant what I said earlier today. I don’t need to see your features to see your heart.”

“Can you honestly say you don’t want to see my face?”

“Of course I do! But when you’ve had time to think about it. I don’t want you to wake up tomorrow and feel that we rushed into things.”

 _Rushed into things? What ‘things’?_ “You don’t feel that we rushed into marrying, do you?”

“No, silly, we’ve belonged together since we fought in that alley and you offered me some soup. Now, will you please turn off the light, take off your helmet and kiss me?”

He switched off the light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The obstacle race in Chapter 4 was mostly based on events from the Tough Mudder runs. Well, not the stinging sand worms--I totally made those up. 
> 
> Now we know about the mysterious Syn and our two crazy kids have gone legit and gotten married. There are still some more questions to be answered, so there will be at least one more chapter. Thanks for sticking around for the ride. 
> 
> I love hearing from readers and since this is a pretty pivotal chapter, I'd especially love to hear what you thought of it. You are an important part of this story too!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “But the fireworks aren’t over yet.”  
> She dropped him a saucy little wink. “You’re kriffing right they’re not!”
> 
> Once upon a Wedding Night...

“Now, will you please turn off the light, take off your helmet and kiss me?”

Din switched off the light and Cara heard rather than saw him lift the helmet off his head.

Now, they were alone in the dark on their ship, and it was simultaneously comfortingly familiar and uncharted territory at the same time.

Din broke the silence. “You said if we’d married on Alderaan the ceremony would have included a kiss on the lips. How would that work?”

“At the end of the vows, the officiant would tell the groom that he may kiss the bride.”

“And may I?” He asked the question with reverence.

She grinned and then sighed. “Din, shut up and kiss me.” Her hands came up and cupped his jaw.

They both let out a gasp: Din, because she was caressing his bare face, and Cara, because she’d just made an amazing discovery.

“You have a beard!” It came out as an awed whisper.

“I can shave it off if you like.”

“Let’s not be hasty,” she cautioned, her fingers tracing over the patchy growth of hair on his jawline before moving up to the thicker line of his mustache. 

Without thinking, his lips grazed, then kissed the tips of her exploring fingers.

Suddenly, her lips were dangerously close to his and they were breathing the same air…

And then their lips met.

Touching.

Tasting.

Exploring.

They drew back at the same time, catching their breath as their foreheads rested on each other, a Keldabe kiss without the helmets.

But a taste was just enough of a tease to be addictive and their lips met again in a desperate dance that only grew in intensity.

Cara was raining kisses across Din’s face as he was savoring the smooth column of her neck, when they were startled by the loud sound of their armor clanking together.

They broke apart, startled, before laughing at the absurdity of the situation.

“We have too much armor on.” It was quite the understatement. “Let me help you.” Din removed his gloves and set to work at the pauldrons on Cara’s shoulders. When he was done, he kissed each shoulder reverently through her soft clothes.

“My turn.” Her voice was almost a whisper as she returned the favor.

His hands moved to her vambraces.

“Is this a Mandalorian wedding night tradition? Removing each other’s armor?” she teased.

Her question was somewhat joking, but his reply was serious: “It is now.”

Piece by piece, they took turns removing each other’s armor:

The breastplate and backplate of the cuirass.

Utility belts.

The cuisse plates that covered the thighs.

Shin guards.

Boots.

Now they were down to just their soft clothes.

“Now, where were we?” The words were whispered against his ear, his face and then her lips were back on his, the length of her body pressed up against his.

Din was on sensory overload. The sound of her voice, the scent of her hair, the warm softness and strength of her curves were intoxicating. He was actually grateful they were in darkness because if he could see her beauty on top of all the other amazing things he could sense, he would surely embarrass himself before this even got started.

So he let his eyes stay closed as their lips met again, as his mouth worshipped hers, as he drew her full lower lip between his.

Kriff, she tasted even better than he’d imagined, but this was better than any dream.

She let out a little moan and her tongue came out to trace his lips. Then they savored each other, tongues dancing and dueling for dominance in an unconscious echo of their first meeting.

Cara was touching Din’s face, his neck, and tracing the width of his shoulders and the planes of his chest, her hands never still. 

Her touch emboldened him and he likewise traced her arms, her waist, the curve of her hip. When his hand inadvertently slipped under the hem of her shirt, his fingers grazed a swath of silky skin.

He hissed.

She gasped, before muttering, “Too many clothes,” and peeling her shirt over her head. Next came the trousers. When she was finished, she began tugging at his clothes.

Before Din could decide if this was reality or simply the very best dream he’d ever had, Cara had him stripped to his skivvies and was pulling his hips flush against hers.

The euphoria of their bodies meeting skin-on-skin was exhilarating, disorienting. He couldn’t think, almost couldn’t breathe—though breathing was surely overrated as he needed her more than air at this point.

Cara was soft…strong…supple. She was so perfect in her response to him, from the nibbling bites he lavished at the base of her neck to his removing her bandeau, then filling his hands and mouth with the blissful weight of her breasts. She was a goddess and he would’ve been content to go on worshipping her, savoring every breathless pant (or was that him?) and the little sounds of pleasure she was making….

Except…

Her exploring fingers had slipped into his briefs and wrapped around a cock that was already hard and more than ready for her. Cara began to stroke him with single-minded intensity.

Okay, that was him panting now.

She let out a little laugh as she gripped the waistband and pulled him into his sleeping compartment and onto the bunk with her. She only paused long enough to wriggle out of her panties and to pull down Din’s briefs as well.

Used to being armored and having his face covered, Din had never been so naked with another person in his adult life. It felt a bit strange but oddly liberating and wholly right. He was still marveling in the sensation when she wrapped her hips and legs around his and flipped him.

It was sudden and unexpected and it knocked the wind out of him.

“Just a reminder that I’ll not go so easy on you again when we spar.”

He chuckled. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He really couldn’t complain that he was flat on his back in this fashion.

“Remember, I can bring you in warm or…,” her voice was a sexy whisper.

One of his hands came up to steady the curve of her hip while the other explored her center, stroking the velvety folds and pearl-like nubbin while glorying in the welcoming moisture he found there.

“Just bring me in,” was all the invitation she needed. Their bodies aligned as she slowly sank down on him.

The teasing was done: this was a reverent moment.

Sacred.

More than just pleasure or double entendres, it was the physical manifestation of their vows: “We are one.”

“I love you.”

“Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum.”

Slowly, with growing intensity, they began to rock together, matching each other thrust for thrust, lost in a haze of desire.

They repeated the words of love over and over, until they could no longer speak. He devoted himself to pleasing her, and she gave as good as she got. As always, they were perfectly in sync, maybe more so because they had come so perilously close to losing this precious thing between them.

Time slowed and the rest of the world fell away. He could feel her tighten around him, holding on fiercely as a burst of light and heat and color swept through her whole body and made her cry out in bliss. He felt it so strongly that his own release quickly followed hers before they collapsed into each other…replete…complete.

They lay there, holding hands and each other, as they caught their breath and the world slowly came back into focus.

He was in that lovely half-asleep/half-awake zone, unsure if the beautiful, soul-stirring experience they had just shared was real or just a dream, when she whispered in the darkness.

“Din?” She sounded breathless and raspy.

“Yeah?” His voice was equally hoarse.

“I’m starving,” Cara confessed. “Can we get something to eat?”

He laughed and it felt so good to have his greatest worry being what their next meal would be.

Din retrieved his helmet and put it back on before turning up the lights and rummaging for his pants and undergarments. By the time he located them and put them back on, he turned to discover that Cara was now wearing his shirt.

“You don’t mind, do you?”

“Looks better on you anyway.”

That made her smile.

They made their way to the galley, but neither wanted to cook. They decided, instead, to cobble together an evening feast of ration bars, berries and sweet breads.

Sitting back to back, they savored their sustenance.

“This probably isn’t the type of wedding party you would’ve had back on Alderaan,” Din observed apologetically.

“No,” Cara admitted, “there would have been a lavish banquet with a huge cake, followed by dancing.”

“I’m not much of a dancer.”

“It’s sort of fighting, just without weapons.”

“Why would anyone want to fight without weapons?” He was genuinely perplexed.

Her answering laugh was interrupted by a loud boom.

“What in the stars was that?!”

“Must be the start of the fireworks,” Din theorized.

Cara’s face lit up. “Ooh, can we go watch?”

They put on their street clothes, feet still bare, and found a spot on the ship’s ramp to get a look at the night sky.

Truth be told, the explosive sounds made Din a bit uncomfortable. They called to mind too many battles…too many sieges…that awful night when he lost his birth parents. But this was his wedding night and Cara was his riduur, his friend, his partner, his co-parent, his everything. If the fireworks made her happy, he could handle them.

He moved closer and put an arm around her waist. Cara leaned into him, her face turned up to watch the pyrotechnic displays. He could see the excitement on her face, the bright colors reflected in her midnight eyes, and he was content to just stay there, drinking in the sight with his eyes.

They watched in companionable silence for a few minutes when Cara stood to her feet. Taking Din’s hand, she pulled him up with her. “C’mon, let’s go back inside.”

Din was confused. “But the fireworks aren’t over yet.”

She dropped him a saucy little wink. “You’re kriffing right they’re not!”

When they got inside and put up the ramp, Cara drew his helmeted head to her face.

“You weren’t comfortable out there, were you? Let’s spend the rest of the evening doing something we both enjoy.”

In the safety of the shadows, he removed his helmet and they were kissing again, shedding clothing as they moved closer to his sleeping compartment. If the first time was about passion, this time was about slow exploration:

Her lips moving down the column of his neck…

His lips planting a necklace of little kisses around her collarbone and over her shoulders…

Her hands tracing the planes of his back…

Him burying his face in the soft valley of her breasts, teasing her aureoles with his fingers until they rose in tight peaks he laved with his tongue…

The little sounds she was making against his ear were as intoxicating as the touch, taste and smell of her…

And when she licked her way down his chest, past his navel and then took him into her mouth…

She encircled him with her lips and her tongue, warm and eager, lightly tasting at first before taking him as deeply as she could.

His fingers tangled in her hair, holding her close and savoring the way she made him feel. It was better than he’d ever dreamed. Breath was elusive as Cara, like the siren she was, pulled him closer to his release. It swept over him in a wave, like he was flying into the stars, no jetpack required.

They laughed together for a moment before he slid down her body, hands caressing her hips and lips raining kisses up her inner thighs starting at her knees.

“My turn.” It was an erotic promise. The combination of her softness and strength was his poison. If he had to cover his face, then surely nestling between her breasts or her thighs was the way. He’d never been intimate with anyone before when his face was bare, and the smell and taste of her essence was enough to drive him mad.

Still, he kept enough of his wits about him to study her intimately, gauging from her breathing and the little sounds she made if he was pleasing her. A little more tongue, a little more teasing of her pearl of pleasure, his hum of desire against her core and suddenly her vocalizing increased, her amazing thighs wrapped around his head and her fingers pulled at the waves of his hair. She seemed to tense from head to toe before sinking back into the bunk and pulling him up with her.

He felt as stunned as he had in that first alley fight on Sorgan.

“See, I told you there’d be fireworks.” Cara sounded a bit smug.

“You weren’t wrong,” Din agreed.

“I think we need a shower.”

“A useful suggestion. There’s just one problem.”

“And that is?”

“I can’t move,” he confessed, burrowing closer to her and pulling the blanket up over their bodies.

“Me neither. Maybe in the morning. Kiss me goodnight?”

“Always.” He angled her face up to his and they could taste each other on their lips.

His eyes were just closing when he heard her soft, “I love you, Din Djarin.”

It sounded like a miracle to Din’s ears. When he awakened this morning, it was to the knowledge that he was losing Cara and his whole life would change.

And his whole life had changed—in the best possible way.

“Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum, riduur.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally supposed to be the final chapter, but I am happy to say that I was wrong and there is more story coming.
> 
> Thank you for your support and continued reading!

**Author's Note:**

> I know, I know, I can't believe I'm starting another story. Not to worry, I am still actively involved with What the Boss Saw and Show Me. The muse just struck me and I had to write this. 
> 
> So...do you think the odds are in Cara's favor? We shall see. 
> 
> The part where Cara abandons romantic hope after her young suitor pushes her into the water and gets her boots wet was based on an incident in my youth. True story.
> 
> I do not suffer anxiety attacks, but tried to research and consult friends who do. I hope I was accurate in describing the symptoms and attempts to stop the attack. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are like chocolate to a writer's heart. This is the Way!


End file.
